


Princess

by bloodandcream



Series: The more the merrier [66]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Dean, Comeplay, Dean in Panties, Felching, Feminization, Gangbang, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeur Sam, kind of Dom Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7633048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean blinked at the reflection in the mirror. There were ugly watery tracks of black down his cheeks and the bright lipstick was faded from his lips - smeared all across his cheeks - freckles stark as the powder and blush had worn off. When he pursed his lips and yawned, Dean could feel spit and come that’d dried on his skin pull and pucker.<br/>...<br/>“You look like a princess.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Princess

“You look like a princess.”

Dean swiveled on the stool when Cas nudged his shoulders, turning him towards the mirror so he could see for himself.

He hardly recognized himself with that much makeup on. Thick black lining his eyes, jesus, how did Cas even make his lashes look that long. Cheeks a flushed pink even though his heart rate was normal and he wasn’t - not yet - aroused. Lips painted a bright bubblegum pink and so fucking shiny. So fuckable.

Sandy brown hair was still short and spiked, but nestled on top was a tiny delicate tiara.

Dean groaned, “I can’t believe you got a fucking tiara, you asshole.”

In the mirror, Dean watched Cas behind his shoulder. There was an affectionate smile on his lips as he lay his hands on Dean’s bare shoulders and bent to kiss the top of his head.

“Anything for my princess.”

Dean reached back to swat his hip. “Fuck you.”

It was supposed to be embarrassing. Well, it was a bit. But the tight little knot in his gut that wanted him to recoil from the mirror and wipe all the work Cas’d just done off, it kind of turned him on too. Even if Dean was ashamed about what he liked - how much he liked it - Cas was completely and uninhibitedly without shame.

“Come on, party’s already started,” Cas stepped back and held out a hand.

Dean rolled his eyes. Shifted around on his stool. Took Cas’ hand because he was a little wobbly in high heels. He took a second - a minute, while Cas waited patiently - to admire himself in the mirror. The high stiletto’s made his muscles tense in stark definition beneath the flimsy thigh highs. Cas had bought him the frilliest, outrageously neon pink panties for this occasion. Snug and satin across the front, there were thin rows of frilly pastel pink lace across the ass, bows stacked up the side. They were made for men, cupped him in the front, somehow made his junk look even bigger.

It was fucking weird how… masculine he could look in girly things.

Dean had spent the day being pampered by Cas. Bathed, shaved, given an enema, dolled up.

Treated like a princess.

He felt strange and vulnerable and hot inside. All day, he’d swung between stubborn rebellion against the soft treatment, and a simple kind of giddiness when he’d let himself accept it.

Twisting around for another good look - his ass was amazing - Dean put on a cocky smirk. “So, did you invite Sam?”

Honestly, he wasn’t really sure if him or Cas got off on that more.

Or Sam.

“Yes. He’ll be watching.”

-

Spit drips down his chin, down his chest. Two fingers press against his tongue sliding back until he starts to gag, sliding back further and Dean swallows around them.

“He’s very beautiful, did you do the make up, Castiel?”

Cain’s voice always makes Dean squirm.

“I did.”

Pulling his fingers out, thumb lingering on the swell of his bottom lip before tracing his jaw, Cain moves a hand to unbutton his jeans.

“The tiara is a nice touch.”

Dean flicks Victor a middle finger.

“Always was a fussy thing, weren’t you, princess?”

Benny kneels behind him and hitches his hips up, wide hands warm and strong.

In the corner of the living room - coffee table pushed against the wall, towels and pillows strewn across the floor, a little goddam crystal bowl holding lube sachets and condoms within arms reach because Cas loves playing host - Sam sits on the wide couch with his legs sprawled and his eyes fixed on Dean.

He can feel his brother’s gaze. Like a hand stroking down his spine. Dean arches his ass up and watches Sam’s hand flex over his dick through his jeans while Cain sinks his cock into Dean’s mouth.

-

Eyes rolling back in his head, tears prickle in the corners and Dean doesn’t even try to blink them away. He lets them pool, squeezes his eyes shut, feels them run down his cheeks. Sweat gathers at his hair line and drips down his temple. Rocking on his hands and knees, Dean gags noisily on the cock fucking his throat.

Victor’s still drilling his ass but Benny stills, pulls out a little, and Dean breathes heavily through his nose. Rough fingertips slide over his wet cheeks.

“Princess, we bein’ too rough with you?”

Turning his wide eyes up at Benny, Dean curls his tongue around the head of Benny’s cock.

“Shit, cher.”

Moaning, bringing a hand up to brace on Benny’s thigh, Dean reaches the other back and pulls an ass cheek, silently asking Victor for more, harder. Asking both of them. Hands on his hips, cradling the back of his head, pulling him around like he’s nothing more than a doll, Dean can’t do much but enjoy it.

This isn’t the first time they’ve all done this. Or the second, or the third.

The princess act. That’s kind of new.

It made Dean feel raw at first. Silly. He wasn’t graceful and he wasn’t pretty, no matter how good Cas was at makeup. The feeling’s kind of melted away. But they remind him. Call him princess. Snap the waist of his panties that’re just pulled to the side.

It makes Dean feel smaller somehow. Feels like he could get lost easier.

He fucking loves it.

-

Throat fucked sandpaper rough hurts when he wheezes for breath. Laid out on his back. Hands to either side wrapped around the smooth hot skin of a cock. That’s Victor by his shoulder, Cas by the other. One leg pulled up in Cas’ firm hold, fingers wrapped around his ankle, that pink stiletto pointed skyward and Dean’s spread wide, held down. His panties are missing.

Chest smattered with come - Cain - flushed red and heaving with breath. Between his thighs, Cain bumps shoulders with Benny. Jostling for position. Dogs at a bowl. Dean laughs.

A hand smacks down on his chest, flat fingertips right over his nipple and it smarts like a bitch.

“Behave yourself, princess,” is Cas’ stern command.

Dean whimpers and tightens his grip on Cas cock, trying to focus. His mind is swimming. Drowning. Lower belly - trembling - a mess with his own release - once, twice - and his poor cock is still trying to stiffen again.

Tongues lap the space between his legs greedily. The shaved smooth skin over-sensitive. Soft bristle beards rub the insides of his thighs as Cain and Benny leave swathes of ripe bruises, taking turns lapping the mess from his ass. Sore, feeling turned inside out, Dean squirms.

Victor pulls out of his fist, rears up. Dean obediently tips his head to the side, mouth lolled open. Cas presses a finger into his mouth and hooks it down behind his lower teeth to tug his mouth open wider.

Dean drowns.

-

His is ass is sloppy with spit and come and lube - almost everyone has had their fingers, cock or tongue in there tonight and Dean’s so fucked out he’s crying - there’s no resistance at all while Cas thrusts into him deep. Dean does his best to put in some effort, bouncing on his boyfriend’s cock in a room of his closest friends, and brother, but his muscles burn and his cock hangs soft while he whimpers.

Strong arm wrapped around his chest, Cas holds him up. Dean straddling his lap backwards, Cas’ chest heaving and slippery with sweat against Dean’s back. Facing the corner.

Facing Sam.

Dean’s dripping with everything and his stomach is cramped like he’s done a hundred sit ups. Work-out sore, yeah, this is definitely a work-out, one he’ll be feeling for days. Holding weakly onto Cas’ forearm, Dean rests his head back on Cas’ shoulders. Solid, steady.

It takes all his energy to keep his eyes open. On Sam. The head of his brother’s cock is purple, hasn’t come once yet. Lower lip between his teeth, eyes wide and pupils black. Still has his pants and shirt on. Shame.

Cain and Benny are making out, lazy slow, Benny half crawled in Cain’s lap. Victor’s stretched out on the floor, Dean’s knee knocking his ribs when Cas jostles Dean. Grin stretched on his face, watching, teeth so bright set in dark skin and one hand on Dean’s thigh.

“Did our princess do well?” Cas asks, grunting.

“Yeah,” Sam answers, “Shit. Dean, so good.”

Dean lifts up, fucks himself down on Cas. Trembling with over exertion. He’d do anything to hear that praise. That he did good. Is good.

“Finish in him, Cas,” Sam squeezes his balls in one hand, the other slowing over his cock, “I’ll give him a treat.”

Cas murmurs against Dean’s ear, soft rumble, good, good, fingers sinking into the flesh of his hips and it hurts. Cas pulls him down. Teeth in the skin of his shoulder. It hurts. He can feel Cas twitching inside him, clenches, rolls his hips. Teeth sinking deeper and Dean cries.

It’s so good to be owned like this.

The world tips, his hands rest on the ground and Cas nudges him forward. Dean stumbles towards his brother. Sam cups his palm carefully in front of the head of his cock and strips it fast until he’s filling his hand with his come. Dean sits at his feet. Doesn’t touch. Waits.

Sam’s neck is shining with sweat, hair fallen half across his face, cupped hand held out in offering.

“Such a good princess.”

Dean kind of wants to scowl. Instead, he takes what he can get. Thick and bitter on his tongue. The skin of his brother’s hand slippery as he cleans it. Presses his lips to Sam’s wrist. Fingers curl under his chin, stroke. It flutters down into his gut, breathy, light.

The others don’t say a thing.

-

A gentle hand on his shoulder roused Dean. He must of passed out. Sitting up, Dean found himself stretched out on the couch. Raising his hands above his head, he yawned and blinked at Cas standing in front of him.

Cas had pajamas on, just the pants, soft flannel with kittens and balls of yarn on it. He was fucking ridiculous, and Dean kind of loved his cute pajamas.

“Come on, bed time.”

Dean took the hand offered. He didn’t wobble on high heels when he stood, those had been kicked off a while ago. One bare foot hit the plush carpet. A silky thigh high still clung to his other foot, fallen around his ankle. Everything ached when Dean stood up, in the best sort of ways. There was rug burn on his knees, chest tacky with dried come - the taste of it sour in his mouth - and his ass still felt fucked open.

Cas curled an arm around his waist and guided him up the stairs. Dean didn’t need the gentle treatment, but it was nice.

He was deposited on a bath towel draped over the little stool in front of the low dresser in their bedroom. Dean promptly dropped his head onto a folded arm while Cas went somewhere else. He felt like everything inside him had been scraped out, and he was left pleasantly, quietly empty - there was still a quivering tingle under his skin from all the scraping.

He could count his bruises tomorrow.

Cas would count with him.

A gentle hand settled on his shoulder and Dean sat up. Cas draped over him, hands on his chest and there was a warm wet washcloth dangling from one. Dean rubbed his chin on Cas’ wrist. Fingers curled under his jaw and tipped his head up.

Dean blinked at the reflection in the mirror. There were ugly watery tracks of black down his cheeks and the bright lipstick was faded from his lips - smeared all across his cheeks - freckles stark as the powder and blush had worn off. When he pursed his lips and yawned, Dean could feel spit and come that’d dried on his skin pull and pucker.

He was fucking wrecked.

Somehow the dainty tiara was still perched in his hair, if a bit lopsided.

Cas kissed the shell of his ear. “You look like a princess.”

Dean grinned at their reflection. “Goddam right I do.”


End file.
